In which Kael is dragged into a subconscious dream court, his trauma becomes a jury, and Spoon is reassembled through interpretive dance.
Location: Unknown.
Mood: Surreal.
Lighting: Aggressively symbolic.
Soundtrack: Distorted memory fragments featuring off-key harp solos.
Kael woke up in a courtroom.
Again.
But this one was worse.
There were no walls—just an infinite void stitched together with dream logic and regret. The ceiling flickered between childhood bedrooms and burning monasteries. The floor alternated between cracked marble and soft memory-fog. The benches? Floating bookshelves labeled "Mistakes." And the judge's bench was, naturally, a steaming soup tureen wearing a powdered wig.
"We regret to inform you," announced Fluffernox, who had apparently decided this was his moment to shine as a dreamscape bailiff, complete with a tiny judicial robe and a gavel that was definitely just a breadstick, "that you have entered your Inner Trial."
He cleared his throat dramatically.
"All objections must be sung. Witnesses may manifest as unprocessed trauma. Jury has been selected from fragments of your soul. Also, your defense attorney is a Spoon."
Kael stared at him.
Then slowly turned to see the jury box, which consisted of twelve different versions of himself, ranging in age, attitude, and hair quality. There was Baby Kael sucking on a piece of chalk. Ten-Year-Old Kael clutching a broken wand. Teen Kael in his full angst arc. Future Kael with glowing Echo eyes. And one disturbingly handsome Kael labeled "Villain AU."
"I want to wake up now," Kael muttered, inching backwards.
"Permission denied," Fluffernox meowed, flourishing his whiskers. "Court is now in session."
🎵 Opening Number: "It's Not Your Fault (But Also Kind Of Your Fault)"
A spotlight snapped on. A familiar, divine glow burst from the floor, and a somewhat reassembled Spoon rose from a shaft of radiant light wearing a sequined blazer, dark sunglasses, and holding three law books and a kazoo.
"Kael Aetherborne," Spoon intoned, voice echoing like a prophet at karaoke night, "I will now represent your subconscious defenses in this holy trial of identity collapse."
"That's… so many words for 'I'm your lawyer,'" Kael muttered.
"And yet, not enough."
Cue dramatic music.
Spoon began tap dancing. Harps descended from above and began playing the wrong chords. The jury of Kaels sighed in various tones of mutual disappointment.
🧠 Witnesses of Trauma, Summoned
"First witness," Fluffernox declared. "The Accused's First Heartbreak."
The air shimmered. A younger version of Kael stepped forward—wide-eyed, wand trembling, holding a tiny bouquet of fire-resistant lilies.
"I wanted to be loved," Ten-Year-Old Kael said simply. "But I wasn't ready. And then when they left, I decided love wasn't safe."
Kael clenched his fists. "I was ten. I didn't understand—"
"But you remembered," Spoon whispered gently.
"Next witness," Fluffernox sang, clearly enjoying himself, "Kael from the Echo Realm."
A spectral Kael floated down, his body flickering between timelines, his voice laced with static.
"You had a choice. You saw futures—glorious, tragic, mundane. You chose to return. To be yourself. To be this. But what have you done with it?"
"I'm trying!" Kael snapped. "Every day I survive is a miracle. Every step I take without imploding is a win."
The jury of Kaels nodded solemnly. One clapped. One wept. One vaped out of a dreampipe and got ejected.
🎝 Mid-Trial Breakdown
The courtroom flickered. The memories twisted around him, warping into scenes he hadn't faced in years:
The burning monastery where he'd failed to protect anyone.
The silent rejection from someone he never confessed to.
A dinner table filled with laughter—except no one was laughing at him, because he wasn't there.
"You're afraid," Spoon said, quietly. "Afraid that none of this matters. That you're just some cosmic mistake being humored by gods, cultists, and soup."
Kael didn't deny it.
He stood, trembling.
"I know I wasn't supposed to exist," he said. "I'm a glitch. A statistical error. A System hiccup. But I'm still here. I get up. I show up. I make soup. I hold the line, even when I don't know what the line is. Because someone has to."
He turned to the judge's bench, the jury, the shifting audience of faces he barely remembered.
"I don't need to be real. I just need to matter."
Silence.
Then—
The Mask of Echo, hovering above like a judgmental chandelier, shimmered with light.
And cracked.
Not violently.
But gently.
As if it was… crying.
📜 SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
[Dreamscape Trial Passed] [User Kael has acknowledged core trauma without fleeing or disassociating.] [Unlocked Perk: "Self-Acceptance (Provisional License)"] [New Ability: Echo Resonance – Uncontrolled emotional transmission to nearby allies. Use responsibly (lol).]
Kael sat down. Sweating. Breathing hard. Still mildly glowing.
Spoon offered a victory kazoo.
He declined. Respectfully.
"Therapy complete," Spoon said, tossing a glitter bomb labeled 'Progress!'
The courtroom twisted again—this time not from pain, but release.
The jury vanished.
The memories faded.
The soup-wig judge tipped his tureen.
And Kael opened his eyes—
Back in the Tribunal.
Except now…
Everyone was staring at him.
Not like he was a bug. Not like he was an error.
But like he was something they didn't understand.
And therefore feared.
High Arbitrator Veyra leaned forward, her voice cold and calculating.
"You survived your inner trial. No one has done that in centuries."
"Do I get, like… a cookie?" Kael rasped.
"You get to stand trial again," she said. "This time, with divine consequences."
Kael groaned.
Spoon rubbed his non-existent temples.
Fluffernox sharpened his powdered wig.
The courtroom rumbled.
And in the distance, Belladonna's voice screamed: "KAEL! YOU IDIOT—!"
Next Time on Kaelverse:
The Tribunal Throws a Curveball, Belladonna Interrupts With a Sword, and Kael Accidentally Hijacks the Trial (With Feelings)
This is why we don't repress things, folks.
To be continued.